I’d gathered this from what had been said in Coeur d’Alene, but still, it was hard to hear. Those guys were his whole world, they meant everything to him. I couldn’t imagine how he must have felt. No matter what he’d done, and I know he’d done a lot, I accepted that. It didn’t change the facts. His mother had hurt him and left him, his father had failed him, his brother and best friends had threatened to throw him out of the band. And now I’d been talking about leaving. Whatever our relationship, for several months now I’d been a staple part of his life, one he apparently liked in his own way.
My wanting to leave was bound to get a reaction.
“So I got clean,” he said. “Cut ties with everyone in LA., anyone who had anything to do with before. I came up here and started over. They’ve all been real supportive, my brother, the band. And I understand why they’d be willing to turn their backs on me, I do. Can’t say I don’t get resentful now and then, but I’m the one that pushed them to it.”
“Jimmy—”
“Just listen.” His cold hard eyes never left my face. “You leave, I’m not going to fall apart and start using again. Know that. I’m not trying to blackmail you here, I’m just making something clear. The guys probably were right last night about you being my only friend apart from them. We don’t always get along, but still, you feel like a friend.”
Both of his hands moved from bullying the back of the couch to holding back his hair. He gave the dark strands a sharp tug. “You’re a friend I just happen to pay to hang around, which is incredibly f**king pathetic and messed up, but there you have it.”
“I can still be your friend. I would like to still be your friend.”
Another sharp tug. “It won’t be the same.”
My mouth opened but I didn’t know what to say. He was right, it wouldn’t be the same. No more seeing him and talking to him every day, hanging out with him nearly every night. This part of my life, the time spent with him, would become a memory. The sadness inside me felt huge, overwhelming. I couldn’t possibly contain it. Much more of this and I’d explode, decorating his pristine minimalist living room in messy emotional Lena.
Man, he’d be pissed.
My stupid tongue lay still for the longest time. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Did I ask for your opinion?” he snapped. “No.”
“Hey,” I growled warningly. “Watch it.”
He turned his face away, his jaw shifting restlessly.
Stuff happened on screen, none of it mattered.
“Lena, the point I’m trying to make is, the list is important. And it won’t work if you’re not committed to making it work. So don’t talk to me about us still being friends if you go, okay? Just … commit.”
I took a deep breath, studying his fierce features. Everything in life was so damn complicated, so confusing when it came to the heart. I don’t know when that happened exactly, probably sometime during the early teenage years when boys overtook my interest in ponies and glitter.
Resented the hell out of it some days.
“Fine, I’m committed,” I said, the only answer I could give.
“Fine.” He relaxed back, crossing his arms over his chest, satisfied apparently. But I already knew, the list wasn’t working.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Is that what you’re wearing?” Jimmy leaned against the bottom of the balustrade watching me descend. He wore a black suit and white shirt, very classy, very expensive. I bet it cost more than I made in a month. The man was such a show pony, one that I just so happened to be hormonally susceptible to. Blame it all on my girl bits, sure why not?
“Yes, this is what I’m wearing,” I said. “Why?”
“No reason.”
First chance I had, I was writing to Santa and asking for the ability to read people’s minds this Christmas. Or just one mind—Jimmy’s. Though I doubt I’d like what I found in there. “What’s wrong with this?”
He took in my frilly navy-and-white polka-dotted blouse, black leggings, and boots. “Nothing. Just … interesting choice.”
“I like this choice.”
“Sure, it’s real nice. Just thought you might dress up more.”
“We’re only going out to dinner downtown. It’s meant to be relaxed.” I straightened my glasses. Black rims this time, f**k him, I’d even accessorized right. Plus, I’d painstakingly applied my make-up and straightened my brown hair. Long and thick, it was my one true pride and joy. But Jimmy seemed utterly unimpressed, Little wonder I had trouble believing his scant compliments when the very next day he looked down his nose at me.
“And you look relaxed.” His car keys swung from a finger.
“Oh, shut up. Where are you off to?” I asked. “Thought you said you were staying in tonight.”
“I’m driving you,” he said. “Told Benny we’d meet him at the restaurant.”
“What? Why?”
“No need for him to pick you up when I’m heading that way.” He took my red coat, holding it open for me to slip into. Typical of the dichotomy in his behavior. He boggled my mind, insulting me one minute, then behaving the perfect yesteryear gentleman the next.
“Thanks,” I said. “You’re going to David and Ev’s?”
“Mhmm.”
“Well, that’s good you’ll have some company.”
He nodded and led the way downstairs to the garage. The new, nearly finished, studio sat at the front of the building, the big open middle area cluttered with exercise gear and musical instruments. At the back lay the garage with Jimmy’s two cars. The chrome on the black 1971 Plymouth Barracuda gleamed in the low light. I’d always wanted to steal the keys from Jimmy and go for a spin. But as always, he headed for the latest model Mercedes. So sensible this time of year.
We drove in silence all the way there, a soft rain falling. Instead of pulling up out front of the restaurant, he drove around the corner and parked in the first available spot.
“You’re not just dropping me off?” I asked, reaching for my umbrella.
“I’ll see you in. Say hi to Ben.”
“All right.”
We huddled together, Jimmy’s arm loosely around my back and his hand over mine, helping to hold the umbrella steady in the strong winds. The restaurant specialized in Asian French fusion cuisine and was rather fancy. Lots of carved wooden chairs and tables, with swathes of red silk on the walls. An antique mirror showed off my now damp frizzy hair to perfection. Oh well, I’d tried. Jimmy’s hipster up-do still looked perfect, of course. I doubt Mother Nature would dare mess with him even at her bravest. She’d put so much effort into getting him right, after all.